


if the fates allow

by queerwatson



Category: Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Gen, M/M, except that it's post empty house, lack of knowledge about where this falls in show canon, talk of retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:58:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2840606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerwatson/pseuds/queerwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was uncomfortably close to Christmas when Watson found himself in the midst of a conundrum.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if the fates allow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hoc_voluerunt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoc_voluerunt/gifts).



It was uncomfortably close to Christmas when Watson found himself in the midst of a conundrum. Normally he would have spoken to Holmes, except that he couldn’t possibly on this occasion. That left speaking to the other men at his club, but that didn’t seem like a course of action that would find him a solution - in fact it would probably only earn laughter, and some good-natured teasing. Instead, he was sitting in the kitchen at 221b, drinking tea and looking at Mrs. Hudson.

“I simply don’t know what to get Holmes for Christmas.”

Mrs. Hudson gave him that small, knowing smile she had, which oftentimes also hid a glint of mischief. He wondered more often than not if her stepping in to practically become Holmes’ adoptive mother had affected her personality. Still, she volunteered no suggestion, and Watson continued on.

“I’ve gotten lucky, in past years. Recently broken chemistry equipment that needed replacing, a pipe I happened across, a trinket for his watch-chain, a new cigarette case after he let me keep his. But what now? There’s not a convenient opening, and if ever there was a man that had everything, it’s certainly Sherlock Holmes. You know that as well as I do.”

Finishing off his cup of tea, Watson set it down, only to have Mrs. Hudson immediately pick it up and set it aside.

She returned, and looked at him, that same small smile on her face. “I believe it would mean very much to Mr. Holmes if you’d just consider spending less time at your medical practice, Doctor.” Watson opened his mouth to protest that that hardly seemed much of a gift, but Mrs. Hudson started to show him out, saying, “I really don’t have time for anything more, Dr. Watson, I do have food to cook and things to clean for you two.”

Finding himself firmly shooed out of the room, Watson sighed and made his way back upstairs to the flat. Holmes was out on one of his case errands which required working in disguise and not any assistance from Watson, which was what had left him to his Christmas gift pondering in the first place.

Mrs. Hudson’s statement had been an odd one. If Watson spent more time at home, how would he be of any help? Holmes often needed to run errands like this on his own - then again, he had long spans of being left to himself as well, when Watson had to go and tend to patients. They were both older now, and they generally went without money troubles, having enough rich clients to balance out those who could not pay. For some time, Watson had saved because he’d planned on perhaps attempting marriage, but now that Holmes was back that all seemed rather silly. He’d remained at Holmes’ side this long. Why should that change?

Was Holmes aware of that? Surely he was. But perhaps that was really what Mrs. Hudson had meant - that Holmes did not like to be reminded of his time without Watson any more than Watson liked to be reminded of his time without Holmes. Still, would giving up medical practice really help that? How could he make it even clearer to Holmes?

It was with these thoughts in mind that Watson set about his task.

\---

A few days later, it was Christmas Eve. Holmes had returned, the case had been solved, and now they had settled in for Christmas, as was their unspoken custom.

Watson looked up from his reading and cleared his throat. “Holmes. Do you ever think about retirement?”

With a long hum, Holmes turned his head to look at Watson and raised an eyebrow. “I can’t say I do, not regularly. I have put some thought into how to occupy myself once I truly can’t solve cases on foot any longer, and that I could no longer live in London as a result. But why do you ask?”

“Well, we’re both getting older, clearly. And I thought that I might spend less time with my medical practice, except that I wondered if we might need the money to move. I’d much prefer to go somewhere a bit warmer, closer to the sea. It would be better for your health, as well.”

Watson noticed with a bit of delight that Holmes looked surprised. He smiled a bit, and slowly, Holmes smiled back. “I think that we could manage, Watson, without your doctorly contributions. If you’d like to keep your work just to cases, surely we could still put away enough for a small cottage.”

With a smile, and a nod, Watson looked back at his book. After a moment, he felt Holmes’ hand on his shoulder and looked up.

“Thank you, my dear fellow.”

The corner of Watson’s mouth lifted again. “You hardly have to thank me. This is certainly the most selfish Christmas present I’ve ever given.”

Holmes laughed, briefly, and squeezed Watson’s shoulder. “Well I thank you for it nonetheless. It will be good to see more of you again - and to know that things shall stay that way.” 

Watson placed his hand over Holmes’, and they looked at each other for a long moment. Then, carefully, Watson lifted Holmes’ hand and pressed a swift kiss to his knuckles. He caught just a glimpse of a tinge of pink on Holmes’ face before his friend had turned and gone to the window.

“Merry Christmas, Watson.”

With a fond sigh, Watson stood, and looked, still, at the back of Holmes’ head. “Merry Christmas, Holmes.”


End file.
